Happy New Years
by Harlecat
Summary: Those who are the hardest to love need it the most. Arthur is an author and an alcoholic, Francis is sometimes a crossdresser but mostly annoying, and Alfred is a friend to everyone and famous for his parties. In other words, FrUk New Years, anyone?


Arthur slouched against the wall of Alfred's house and frowned at the crowd around him. He hated holidays. And he hated the winter ones in particular. Cold weather and general cheeriness weren't really his thing.

"Arty! Bro-bro-bro-bro!"

Arthur looked up. Alfred had materialized and threw his arm around him.

"Dude!" He grinned. "I'm so psyched you're here. Can I get you anything? Want something to chow down on while we wait for the ball to drop?"

"I'm fine."

"You're sure? I've got sliders!"

"Well, if you're that stubborn, I'll take a drink." Alfred blinked, his grin frozen. "What?"

"Uh… you sure that's a good idea, man?"

"It doesn't have to be a large one!" Arthur snapped.

"Sorry, dude. Have to say no."

"Alfred!" Arthur had thought he might actually get a decent drop of alcohol. And after a whole season sober, too (with some slip ups, but it would have been hell otherwise) but here Alfred had to go and ruin the party. Why'd he bother showing up?

"Okay, chill, I'll get you something to drink. But you're gonna be pissed."

"Fine," Arthur grumbled. "Make it good." So what if he got a little drunk? Might as well ring in the new year _without_ feeling shitty.

"Oh, _Angleterre!"_

Never mind.

Arthur raised an eyebrow at the approaching Francis.

"Oh, fantastic, you're here too." Arthur sighed. "Why are you wearing a dress?"

Francis tapped him on the nose. "I felt like it, silly."

"Fuck off," Arthur said, then his eyes darted to the cup in his hand. "What're you drinking?"

"Red wine. Only the finest for _moi_."

"Is it good?"

"Fairly so, but it's American, so I can't- hello? _Arthur?_" Francis snapped his fingers. "I _know_ I'm handsome but please pay attention." He sighed overdramatically. "I should've known the dress was too much for you all to handle!"

"I think it looks fine," Arthur said.

"... That's uncharacteristic of-"

"Can I try your drink?"

"Ah." Francis nodded. "Now I see."

"Oh, you'd do the same in my shoes."

"You're so adorable, Arthur. No, you can't have some."

"Oh, _come on_! What a git," he added under his breath.

"Insulting me won't make me want so share, mon cher."

"Stop rhyming things and give me some!"

"Ok_ay_," Francis smiled winningly at Arthur. "What will you give me?"

"I'm not giving anything to _you_," Arthur said.

"Well, then, we're at a dead end, aren't we?"

"Fine, fine!" Arthur lifted his hands in surrender. "I'll give you something. Just give me your drink. You know what, if you _keep_ passing me drinks, I'll do anything. Deal?"

"Well-"

"Art_y_!" Alfred had appeared again. Jesus, was it possible for him to make any less noise? He threw his arm around Arthur's shoulder. "Look what I brought you!"

"Oh, thank god." Arthur nearly collapsed with relief as Alfred handed him a tall glass of golden, sparkling liquid. He didn't hesitate to take a long drink, and choked. "What the bloody hell is this?" He wiped the foam and drink away from his mouth.

"Cider, bro!"

_"Is it alcoholic?"_

"No," Alfred said, and gave Arthur a distasteful look. "The only alcoholic thing around here is you, man."

"Now now," Francis winkde. "I have wine, Alfred, Arthur doesn't stand alone. Let's not make fun of his problems."

"You were right," Arthur snarled. "I _am_ pissed, get me some bloody alcohol!"

"Come on," Alfred said. "Every year you get all excited about how you're finally gonna make it through a year sober. Where's that killer attitude?"

"Maybe I don't bloody feel like it this year," Arthur crossed his arms again.

_"Believe in yourself,_" Alfred said.

"Right now I believe in drowning my sorrows in whiskey, but _someone's_ refusing to give me any."

"I don't get you," Alfred shook his head. "You've got a really great life, bro. You've got a solid income, and a pretty good job, everyone loves you, and I mean- look around. You've got all of these friends."

"First off," Arthur lifted a finger. "My income is solid, but _you_ try churning out ninety page novellas on a deadline, and _you'll_ be begging for whiskey too. Second, I hate everyone in this room, except possibly you, who I strongly dislike, and Francis, who I _loathe._ Finally, if you're calling yourself a friend, you must be a piss-poor one if all you do is annoy me, disappoint me, and refuse to even give me a pint!"

Alfred glared at him, and might have said something, if he hadn't turned and seen someone walked through the door. He gave Arthur a second scowl.

"Yeah, _mate_," he said. "You must think we're pretty bad, if you prefer getting coked up and hallucinating your friends."

_"Oh,"_ Arthur said, but couldn't think of something to say back, so he stood there, offended and wishing he had kicked Alfred's ass.

"Yeah," Alfred said. "Forget what I said. I guess you really are a miserable, lonely guy, huh?" He gave Francis a scathing look. "Don't give him anything to drink."

Arthur glowered at Alfred, who hurried to greet whatever coworker, ex-girlfriend, or bro had just entered. Francis laughed.

"What the hell are you still doing here?" Arthur demanded.

"You treated him quite rudely," Francis chuckled, having some of his wine. "Don't you think?"

"I can do whatever the fuck I want," Arthur said. "Are you going to give me some of your wine or not?"

"Euh… non." Francis finished off his wine. "Oh, dear, it's all gone."

"Then this was a waste of time, fuck off."

Francis giggled. He actually _giggled_. "Why'd I do that? You're far too much fun."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Everywhere you go, you're either humiliating yourself or blatantly insulting someone. Do you have any idea how great you are to watch? Write an autobiography, please. Give up on fantasy and write a minimalist novel detailing your day to day dialogue."

"Fuck you."

"Oh, I'm sure you'd like that. You could call it, Arthur the Alcoholic. Arthur the Author. Author Arthur the Alcoholic. No, scrap that all! If it's minimalist, you have to call it, _Art._"

"Fuck. You."

Francis smiled at him again, mouth closed, innocent as can be. "You aren't my type, dear."

"Bloody wanker."

"Are you sure you aren't drunk? Ah, never mind. Do you want to know something funny?"

"No."

"A trope I've noticed in books, novels, series, novellas, particularly in the fiction and fantasy genre- and this is _abundantly_ common in yours- is a major artifact or weapon, or villain, being presented in the earlier stages-"

"I know about the Rowling effect!"

"-and returning in the end in some revelation. In other words, what they needed the most _was in front of the protagonist the entire time_, vu?"

"Oh," Arthur nodded. "I see. You're trying to spew wisdom at me and make me apologize to Alfred."

"No, though I suppose you could do that."

"Then what the bloody _fuck_ do you want from me?!"

"Well-"

_"Hey, dudes and dudettes!"_

Arthur rolled his eyes. Alfred had gotten on the stage and had a microphone. The effect was somewhat lessened when Arthur knew he kept the stage there year round. He really threw too many parties.

"We've got a few minutes left," Alfred said. "So I'm gonna give a quick speech and then we'll ring in the new year! Now, where are my notecards…"

_Dear god,_ Arthur thought. _He made note cards._

"Here we go," Alfred said. "First, here's a big shout out to my man, Tony! Only just met him a few months ago, but he's a bro through and through! Next, here's to that ever-awesome Kiku! This parties on him! Everyone go give him a big slap on the back!" Alfred pointed to the back of the room, at a terrified young man. Francis sniggered. Arthur knew Kiku, and also knew he probably should have expected someone as obnoxious as Alfred to put the spotlight on him, and for someone as obnoxious as Alfred to do that. Alfred said something about Gilbert and Antonio and something else about new years, then mentioned Francis, then himself. "I'd also like to thank my awesome bro, Arthur. It's been a few years now, and you kinda suck, man, but you're really a great guy." He said a few more things about himself, the bar, and the food. "Alright, we've got about a minute left! In fact, by my count, it's-" Alfred checked his watch. "Forty nine!" And people started to count loudly.

_Damn,_ Arthur thought. _They're all drunk except me. Why?_

"Are you alright?" Francis asked.

"Fine, why?"

"No reason. You really are heartless," Francis mumbled into his glass, leaning it back to try for the last drops.

"You wanker," Arthur seethed. He hated Francis. He really did!

"Your tie is coming undone," Francis said nonchalantly. Arthur swore loudly and started trying to fix it, not helping it at all. "My mistake, it isn't a tie. It's a knot."

"Shit."

"Here, let me." Francis took Arthur by the shoulders and turned him so they were face to face, and started dealing with his tie.

_"Ten… nine… eight… seven… six..."_

"There!"

"It's still coming undone!"

"Yes, much like you."

_"Three..."_

_"You bloody frog!"_

"Oh, I'll fix it for you." Francis sighed. "Like everything."

_"Two…"_

"Wanker! Frog! I hate you!"

"Shh, Arthur, I'm busy…"

_"One…"_

"Get off of me! I don't need your bloody help!"

_"Happy New Year!"_

"There," Francis yanked the tie into a tight knot. "You're done."

"_You're bloody choking me!"_

"Calm down! I'll loosen it. Voila."

"You tried to kill me!"

"It wasn't on purpose."

"You've attempted murder! You- oh dear lord."

"It appears you've noticed the rest of the room," Francis said. "Yes, Arthur. We are surrounded by kissing couples."

"People are idiots."

Francis nodded. "Agreed, mon cher." His hands moved upwards from Arthur's collar, and he cupped his chin.

"What are you doing?"

"Shut up, it's New Years."

"Oh no. Oh, no no-"

Fireworks went off.

"Thought I might find you out here."

"Piss off," Arthur said. Alfred did the exact opposite and ventured out onto the balcony.

"Saw you making out with Francis," he said. "Totally saw that coming. Which makes me at least fifty bucks richer, so, thanks."

"_He_ kissed _me_."

"You're the one who kissed him back. A few times, too. And you dragged him out here."

"Yeah, whatever," Arthur slurred. "Bloody wanker still kissed me first."

"Fun fact," Alfred said. "Your tie is on the- what's that in your hand?"

"Nothing," Arthur said, and Alfred hurried over.

"Where the fuck did you even get bourbon?"

"I paid the bartender extra. You know, you really need better help."

"That's a bottle. A fucking bottle. I can't believe you actually-"

"Cheer up," Arthur said. "It's watered down. I do make _some_ effort, you know."

"Arty. Arthur. Man. I don't believe this. I don't believe-"

"Look," Arthur snapped. "I don't see what the issue is. I watered it down _and_ I haven't even had half of it yet. And it's fucking new year's eve. Cut me some slack, Alfred."

Alfred looked at him, then sighed. "Fine. Just tonight. But for the rest of the year-"

"You can harass me as _much_ as you want, for the other three hundred and sixty four days. In fact, I'm counting on it."

"Sure you are. Where'd Francis go, anyways?"

"Oh," Arthur said. "I'm supposed to be at his house in a half hour for breakfast."

"You have a date? At two in the morning?"

"With Francis, which is why I'm having myself some _alcohol_."

"If you don't want to have a date, why do you have a date?"

"I was kissing him! I forgot about his personality! And that he was _French!_"

"You have a crush on Francis!" Alfred taunted. "You have a crush on Francis!"

"Shut up, no I don't! It's just breakfast. And then probably sex." Arthur groaned. "Shit."

"Really ringing in the new year, huh?" Alfred grinned, and slapped Arthur on the back. "Hey, bro. For what it's worth I'm really glad you came."

"Yeah," Arthur said. "Me too."

"And I hope you have an awesome date-and-sex-probably with Francis!"

"The most fucked up part is, I probably will." Arthur shoved the bottle into Alfred's hands. "I'm probably expected to shower and change, so I should probably go."

"Happy New Year, bro."

"Happy New Year."


End file.
